


I Noticed a Comma in the Middle of a Phrase, It Changed the Meaning. Did you intend this? (One Stroke and You’ve Consumed My Waking Days.) (Lin-Manuel Miranda)

by RockWithItWriting



Category: Hamilcast - Fandom, Hamilton - Miranda, Lin-Manuel Miranda - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-23 00:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9630710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockWithItWriting/pseuds/RockWithItWriting
Summary: requested by anonymous:Hi! Can you write one where you’re Lin’s significant other and you’re in Hamilton with him?damn ellis back at it again with only half fulfilling requests - eword count: 1977warnings: um??? none, gratuitous use of hamilton references





	

Alexander Hamilton was in love with John Laurens. Anyone could see it in the letters he wrote to the latter, things written like “my Dear Laurens, it m[ight] be in my power, by action rather than words, [to] convince you that I love you.” and “In spite of Schuylers black eyes, I have still a part for the public and another for you; so your impatience to have me married is misplaced; a strange cure by the way, as if after matrimony I was to be less devoted than I am now.” There is no doubt, in those who looked, that Hamilton and Laurens were men in love.

There was no doubt that Lin-Manuel Miranda was like Alexander Hamilton. Quick witted, brilliant, world changing. He wrote a play about the immigrant and gave the roles to people of color, he revolutionized the theater world, he climbed the charts, he had millions of fans who thought he hung the moon and yet- yet he wasn’t happy.

He was Hamilton without Laurens, without Eliza, without Angelica. Three people Hamilton undoubtedly loved, and Lin had not one.

He didn’t have you.

You, his Laurens. His best friend. His rock and his confidant and his love and the one he needed and he didn’t have you. Lin was in New York and you were in California.

Hamilton was on the front and Laurens was in South Carolina.

Lin was going mad, bent over a piano, mourning the loss of his chance just as others surely had. He had gotten word of your engagement to a man, no doubt a lawyer or someone of that caliber, just when he had sent word that Hamilton was moving to Broadway. Lin had offered you a spot in the show- Laurens. How fitting. You hadn’t gotten around to telling Lin your answer and he was mourning it, Anthony Ramos waiting in the wings to take your spot if needed. It was probably because he hadn’t checked his email in a fortnight- grown up life had been hectic, making email the only way you two connected.

Mail was pushed through his slot as Lin finally sat up straighter, heading to his bedroom to search his overflowing email for your reply. He hoped it was something along the lines of “I would love to!” But Lin wouldn’t be surprised if you told him no, that you had a life in California, without him and without New York, and in love with a doctor or a movie star or something Lin felt he couldn’t live up to. He pulled his laptop over to the bed, turned on the television across the room and let his email load on screen while he pulled up something to freeze his brain.

(A good example, too, because Lin finally decided on Heathers as he clicked on your name, no subject in the line, and waited for it to load.)

His heart stopped when the page finally loaded, the friendly way you greeted him either defaced with a typo, a slip of the hand that made his heart stutter, or something intentional, made to tell him something. Lin scrolled down to the end, to make sure you ended the email the same as you had before, before scrolling back up to read what you had wrote.

_My Dearest, Lin-Manuel,_

_I’m so excited for you! Broadway, man! That’s so cool. Craig, my fiance, said that I should take the job you’ve offered but I don’t know. He wouldn’t be able to come to New York with me if I took the job, but I’ll call you about it soon!_

_How is your life in New York? Have you got a girl (or a guy, I don’t judge!) yet? I’m sure you could wrap anyone around your finger if you tried hard enough, Lin-Manuel. Your personality is too amazing not to have at least someone wrapped around those magic fingers._

_Anyway, I have to get back to my adult job, bleh. I miss you. Either I’ll be in New York or you have to come visit me because it’s been too long. I can’t wait to convince Craig to go see Hamilton- better have tickets for me, Miranda!_

_Your Dearest,_

And then your name, making Lin regret laying down because he couldn’t breathe. He kept going back to the “My Dearest, Lin-Manuel” because there was a comma, a comma for Christ’s sake, in the middle of the phrase and it changed the whole phrase, the whole email.

Maybe Lin was more Angelica than Hamilton, maybe you were Hamilton and Craig (Craig? Really?) was Eliza. The parallel between his musical and your email was astounding and he felt his heart in his throat but he had to reply, right? Maybe he could just ignore it and pretend like he hadn’t received the email- to procrastinate he heaved himself out of bed and headed toward the door, where the mail was still laying on the floor. He couldn’t help himself, when he saw your looping handwriting he muttered, “My Laurens,” Under his breath.

It was a wedding invitation and suddenly Lin was rethinking everything, all the analogies and metaphors and words he wrote for Hamilton thinking of Eliza when he was thinking of you. He had found his home in you, in your friendship and strengths and weaknesses, but your wedding invitation had found a home on his counter while Lin picked up the phone to call you.

* * *

Nearing three in the morning your phone rang, and vibrated, and rang again. Craig shoved at your shoulder and asked you to get it so you had to swing your legs over the edge of your bed, snatch your phone, and head to the kitchen so Craig wouldn’t be disturbed. When you stumbled and pushed yourself onto a bar stool, you finally got to eyeball the name on your phone. Fear jumped into your system when Lin-Manuel’s name was flashing, a picture from the both of you in high school as his photo.

“Lin-Manuel?” You whispered feverishly, “What’s wrong?”

“I, uh, I don’t know why I called.”

“Are you okay? You’re scaring me.”

“Did you do it on purpose? In your email? Was it purposeful, that you were mirroring Take a Break? Please,” Your name, sounding broken and shattered in hs tired, broken voice echoed over the line and made unease rise in your stomach, “I need to know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“My Dearest, Lin-Manuel.” He said, “That’s what you wrote.” And you knew, suddenly, what was happening. Lin-Manuel was Angelica and you were Hamilton and Craig was Eliza and Lin-Manuel was in love with you and you were in California.

And you had been in love with Lin for years, ever since Craig waltzed into your life with iron lungs and mismatched moods and swingset languages that made your life hell but he wanted you to marry him and you thought you loved him but maybe…

“I don’t know,” You whispered, “Lin-Manuel… I…”

“So you didn’t mean to do that? You didn’t mean to change it?” Footsteps, down the hall, coming toward you.

“My Dearest,” You made sure to pause, “Lin-Manuel. I must go. I’ll take the job.” Before you hung up, just before Craig came around the corner, Lin-Manuel sighed.

“There’s someone in your corner from all the way across the sea.” He breathed, just before you hung up and spun to face Craig, tired and angry. You puffed up your chest and slid your phone away from you.

“Craig, we need to talk.”

* * *

It’s opening night the next time Lin hears from you. He doesn’t know why, he just knows he’s tired and he’s afraid, and he’s not sure he’s ready to go on stage and be Alexander Hamilton, to turn into a man who wrote his way out.

That is, until his laptop dings and it’s another email from you. The greeting is the same, comma perfectly placed between his name and dearest, and Lin lets himself have a moment of pure, unadulterated joy, before he sits down to actually read the email you’ve sent him.

_My Dearest, Lin-Manuel,_

_My plane should be landing by the time you’re sitting down to read this. Also, you should have half an hour before you go onstage._

_Break a leg._

_Just like I broke up with Craig. You should be getting a letter soon rescinding the invitation to my wedding. There will be no wedding. IN fact, Craig’s mother is flying out to my empty apartment in California to chew me out._

_Jokes on her, I’ll be with you._

_I’ll be with New York, with Broadway. My feet on a stage, and with you. Perhaps I already mentioned that bit._

_While I was on the phone with you, two weeks ago, I compared you to Angelica and I compared myself to Hamilton. I am not sure this is true. You are my Eliza, all the way in New York, and I am Hamilton. My Laurens, Craig, is done. He is killed. (Not literally, of course, but figuratively.) And I am returning to the Best of Wives and Best of Woman._

_Of course, you could also think me Laurens. That is, to say, if my suspicions are true. I hope they are because I’ve just admitted to you that I’ve been in love with you since before Craig. He was just a way of Maria’ing you out of my head, a way of forgetting that you and I have been fighting a war since high school, since the first time we performed together. Fuck, Lin-Manuel, I really hope I’m not wrong._

_I hope I can be Hamilton and you can be Eliza, but I’m not sure I could do two shows a day as your Laurens. Maybe Anthony Ramos can step in during the matinee and we could go out for dinner sometimes after the later show?_

_Whichever you decide, I’ll be here. Either as your Hamilton or your Angelica, but I will be here. I will love you and I always will. Hopefully I can see you before showtime, but if not, I will be there, in your dressing room. Whether or not you’re happy to see me is another question._

_If it takes fighting a bad relationship and a country of distance for us to meet, again it will have been worth it._

And that’s how you ended the email. There was no sign off from you, just a bastardization of one of his better lines and the end. Lin thought about hollering for joy but he had no time. His breath hadn’t returned yet and then he turned to tell Chris, bright eyed and blushing, when you dropped your bags in the doorway of his dressing room.

“I made it for opening night, but you might want Anthony to go on. I’m exhausted.” But he didn’t care about the damn show.

“My Alexander,” He whispered, knowing how silly it looked when he as dressed as Alexander, but he didn’t care. You lit up like a Christmas tree with a grin and rushed toward him, calling out for Eliza at the top of your lungs.

You two must have looked a mess, collapsing close to one another as you laughed and, if Lin would admit it, cried a little. Lin thought about kissing you, but didn’t because that was too much and hugging you, having you close to him without Craig, was enough. Places were called and you hauled Lin from the floor, kissing his cheek.

“Break a leg, Lin-Manuel. I’ll be here when you get back.” And that night he performed better, with more energy, than he had in years. There was a standing o for at least five minutes and Lin came off stage with tears in his eyes.

His Hamilton was waiting in his dressing room, just like promised.

* * *

Sources for the letters at the beginning of the imagine: [http://outhistory.org/exhibits/show/hamilton-laurens/hamilton-laurens-letters](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fouthistory.org%2Fexhibits%2Fshow%2Fhamilton-laurens%2Fhamilton-laurens-letters&t=YTBjZTYyYTFkNzcxMzZmYmNiYjBkN2Y3OThhY2JlNjFhOTgyMmYxMCxNN2o1S20yZA%3D%3D&b=t%3AyVg5PkKFcmDKFop6VmQ-dQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fleanwithitwriting.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F156992100433%2Fi-noticed-a-comma-in-the-middle-of-a-phrase-it&m=1)


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